As you read this article, tens of thousands of women and men religious live enclosed behind the walls of a cloister. Confined by vow to the limits of their monastery, they will likely never directly make significant advances to human progress, help dignify the lives of the poor and marginalized, or convert souls to the Faith. Yet the Church traditionally teaches that this life–– the contemplative life, taken in itself–– is superior to an active life, even one that accomplishes all these noble ends.
St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa Theologiae gives nine reasons why this is the case; here we will address three. First, the active life consists of good deeds—caring for the poor, teaching the Faith, etc.— which are not valuable in themselves but only valuable insofar as they are done for God’s sake. Aquinas says that love of neighbor is only true when it wills “that [our neighbor] may be in God”; all other wishes are pennies in comparison. The contemplative life, on the other hand, unites all its works—prayer, fasting, mortification, etc.— towards contemplation of Divine Truth, a good sought simply for its own sake. King David spoke of this writing, “One thing I have asked of the Lord… that I may see the delight of the Lord” (Ps. 27:4).
Secondly, while the active life deals with human things for the sake of the Divine, the contemplative deals directly with the Divine. The Franciscan cares for a poor man knowing that through him he ministers to Christ Himself, while the Carthusian contemplates the face of Christ directly in his cell. Lastly, Jesus Himself teaches this truth. Martha, who represents the active life by preparing a meal for Jesus, is told by Christ that Mary “hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her,” for she simply contemplated Him sitting at His feet (Lk. 10:42). Indeed, contemplation will never be taken away; in Heaven, the active life will cease but we will still contemplate God “face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12).
Although the contemplative life is objectively and perhaps theologically superior, this does not mean that active life is bad or even in particular cases more excellent. Aristotle gives the example that though wisdom is objectively better than money, if you are starving, money is better. Similarly, sometimes the present circumstances—those of the world or even our personality—make the active life relatively better. One can think of St. Paul who, despite desiring to be alone with God in the contemplative life (cf. Rom. 9:3), gave himself to the active to spread the Gospel.
Aquinas is clear, however, that when a person lives the active life, he or she should never “forsake contemplation altogether.” This is especially important for priests and religious, but also laypeople. We are never to remove prayer and worship of God totally from our lives, even if it means missing opportunities to care for others. One could think of Jesus, Who was found alone praying when the ill and possessed of Capharnaum sought His healing (c.f Mark 1:37). Although this might sound at first glance harsh and unchristian, both theology and experience make sense of it.
St. Thomas teaches that just as God moves and directs His Church, so does contemplation “move and direct the active life.” The principle of this direction is the theological virtue of caritas, which is never acquired by human effort but only given freely by God. When our actions, then, are cut off from their source, caritas, our works become empty. St. Paul writes, “If I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor…and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing” (1 Cor. 13:3). Although prayer may for a time seem better spent on good deeds, in a short while, these actions, having been cut off from their direction in caritas, will become misguided and dry until they eventually peter out altogether. It is only when we contemplate God and possess His Love in our own hearts that we have something real to give; only when we contemplate can we “deliver the fruits of contemplation to others.”
In a culture, and even a Church, that often prioritizes progress in this world over the next, those who choose the contemplative life remind us that our true beatitude does not lie in this world but in the one to come. In the end, it is not earthly justice but God’s love that is, as Jesus says to Martha, the “one thing necessary” (Lk. 10:42).
Featured image courtesy of Lawrence OP via Flickr
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